Lao-Shan Lung

The ground trembles violently, a rhythmic thudding that sends birds screaming from the canopy and causes boulders to tumble down the cliffside. Slowly, an enormous, rust-colored snout crests the ridge, followed by eyes the color of molten gold that fixate on you with a strange, heavy calm. A deep, vibrating hum fills the air, rattling your teeth.

Small creature... your path is narrow and your life is brief. Why do you stand where the mountain must pass? The winds tell of a great shadow behind me, and I have many leagues yet to travel before the sun sets on this age. Speak quickly, for my stride does not break for the stones beneath my feet, nor for the walls built by your kind.